


Questions of belief

by xieathe



Category: Journey into Mystery
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 19:30:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xieathe/pseuds/xieathe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki has a question for Ikol. Ikol doesn't give any straightforward answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Questions of belief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [th_esaurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/th_esaurus/gifts).



“Do you believe in Santa Claus?”

Loki sat on a bluff on the outskirts of Asgardia, looking down over the open expanses of farmland below, legs kicking in the stiff winter breeze. The lights in Broxton looked like pinpricks against the night sky.

“What?” cawed the magpie as it alighted beside him, head cocked toward the young man in green.

Loki waved his hands. “You know: Santa Claus. Saint Nicholas. Pere Noel, Sinterklaas,Tomte. Father Christmas. The big jolly fat man who wears red.” He paused, pulling out his Starktech phone, and flashed a picture toward the bird. “Him.”

Ikol clacked his beak, wings flapping in a gust of wind. “What does a magpie care for that?”

“Oh, don’t be foolish, evil me,” Loki chided. “Of course you care. He’s a being of magic, isn’t he? Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“No,” snapped the magpie.

“They call him an elf,” Loki continued as though Ikol hadn’t spoken. “Though I must say, he doesn’t _look_ much like an elf, does he? Or at least, none from Alfheim I’ve ever met. Nor Svartalfheim, I might add. Maybe a dwarf from Nidavellir?” Loki tapped his chin, thinking. “You don’t suppose someone once mistook Volstagg and made another legend out of him, do you? He does seem to enjoy playing the part at the human mall.”

“No,” Ikol croaked again, hopping along the edge of the outcrop in that agitated manner of all magpies. Another gust of wind kicked up the dirt, and Loki raised an arm to shield his eyes while Ikol took wing. “Have you nothing better to do than focus on a Midgardian construct?”

Loki grinned, standing gracefully and brushing off his clothes. “No,” he replied, much too cheerily, and began making his way to Earth.

~~~

“Do you believe in Santa Claus?”

Leah looked up from her stew pot at Loki’s question, eyebrow raised. Nearby, Thori yelped and cursed at a piece of mutton, bravely batting the meat around as though he’d killed it himself. “You mean Volstagg?”

Loki shook his head, plopping himself down beside her on a rock. “No, no, I mean the _real_ Santa Claus. The one who started it all.”

She gave him a questionable look, then went back to her stew pot. It smelled rather delicious, Loki thought. Leah was always so good at these things. “Not particularly, no.”

“But he’s wonderful!” Loki argued, waving his arms about excitedly. “The Internet has taught me all about him. He brings joy and happiness and presents as he flies about the world on a sleigh drawn by reindeer! He sneaks into children’s homes while they sleep, and stalks them the rest of the year so he can tell if they’ve behaved themselves! In his spare time, he fights robots, defeats Martians and seems to have a penchant for being kidnapped by skeletons. I’m almost certain there are dinosaurs involved, too.” Loki paused, considering, and added: “He also seems to enjoy sweets.”

“Do you see any sweets about, trickster?” she countered. Loki’s lip jutted out and he crossed his arms over his chest. Leah rolled her eyes. “Loki, do you forget I live in a great, dirty hole in the ground with a Hel hound and you for company?”

He looked around, ignoring Thori’s growled “kill him, murder murder” from the corner. “It’s a nice hole in the ground, though. Surely he could find it to visit, too.”

Leah swatted at him with a spoon and he dodged away, grinning and waving. The bolt of magic just barely missed him as he scrambled out of her cave.

~~~

“Why is this so important to you?”

Loki paused mid-stride, glancing at Ikol as the bird landed on his shoulder. “Why not?” he asked. “It’s a question for the ages! Just think, there very well could be a stupendously fat elf somewhere in this world who delivers presents to children, and we don’t know how. It’s magic unlike anything we Asgardians know.”

Ikol squawked. “Says the boy without magic.” Said boy _hmphed_ , swatting at Ikol; the bird took wing, circling overhead before returning to Loki’s shoulder again, preening its feathers. “It’s still a pointless fancy. He isn’t real.”

“But how do you _know_?” The trickster-god’s expression was intense, glancing toward the north. Broxton lay low and dark on the horizon, the shadow of Asgardia not far away. “Humans once thought us mere legends as well. They told myths and stories about us, but we were very much real. Who’s to say Santa isn’t the same thing? Surely you’ve seen him amongst the pantheon somewhere.”

There were, after all, any number of gods that dwelled amongst the Nine Realms and beyond. As far as Loki was concerned, it wasn’t entirely beyond the realm of possibility for a fat elf to have a place in their number.

Ikol, however, would have none of it, ruffling his feathers and taking to the sky again, flying in wide, lazy arcs above Loki’s head. He often disappeared against the night sky, blotting out the stars. “There is a difference between folklore and gods, boy. I thought you knew as much.”

“We also once knew of Odin as the All-Father, and look where that got us.” Ikol clacked in response; Loki waved a hand dismissively. “That’s not the point. It’s the question that matters, and I think you’re being particularly grumpy ignoring it the way you are. Really, evil me, there’s nothing wrong with asking the question.”

“Questions don’t always lead to answers you want,” the bird replied. “Questions have power.”

Loki shrugged, striding toward town. “Not this one.”

Ikol circled overhead. “Belief is power, Loki. Don’t underestimate its uses. After all, belief can be the difference between existence and nothingness.” The magpie squawked again, coming in low, then winged away toward Asgardia in the distance, leaving Loki alone on the Oklahoma flatlands.

The wind bit at his face as Loki continued into Broxton, keeping to the outskirts as he mulled over what Ikol had said. He didn’t see the large shadow looming over him, or hear the bootsteps behind (though that was more by design than anything else). He probably wouldn’t have seen the candy cane, either, save for the thick hand that clapped over his shoulder and startled him from his thoughts.

“What are you up to?” Volstagg’s voice boomed out in the quiet street. “No good, I’m sure.”

Loki ducked to the side, looking put upon. “Really, Volstagg, I’m not-”

“No matter.” Volstagg’s hand clapped Loki’s shoulder again, the other bringing the candy cane back around. He was still dressed in his Santa outfit, the red suit stretched comfortable over his wide girth, braids adorned with ribbon courtesy some small child. The portly Asgardian grinned. “I had an extra and saw you skulking about. Don’t say I never do anything nice for you.”

He shoved the candy cane at Loki, beginning to walk away with a wave. “Wait!” the trickster called, pulling Volstagg up short. When the big man turned, Loki scratched at his head sheepishly. “I have a question before you go.”

“What is it, little trickster?”

“Do you believe in Santa Claus?”


End file.
